The Morning After
by toughgirls22
Summary: The Gorillas return from their first mission.


No one missed Wheeler.

The Sergeant-Major had tactfully removed the man's cot before Garrison and the cons returned from their first mission, but none of the men deigned to notice. Secretly shaken by the dangers they had faced, they had gone to their beds with no conversation.

The next morning, however, they were ready to talk.

"What a con, man," fumed Casino. He was pacing the room. "The jerk conned us into signing up for a free ride, and now he tells us we're in for the duration."

"Plus six months," added Goniff. "Bloody 'ell if I remember hearin' that."

"We're the jerks," said Chief, perched on the windowsill. "All we heard was the chance to get out of stir."

Actor was seated in the big armchair. "Certainly true." He removed the pipe from his mouth. "And so we are, in very comfortable surroundings."

"It's still a jail. Ain't those bars on the windows?" Casino spoke bitterly. "And screws in white hats, with guns instead of billy clubs?"

"But a rather elegant jail nevertheless. I myself prefer these furnishings and _objets d'art_ to concrete walls and the odor of urine." Actor smoke smoothly. "As for the guards, perhaps the need for them will be obviated over time. We must simply demonstrate our trustworthiness. As we have already shown our usefulness."

Casino turned around. He hated it when the Italian used those big words. Pretentious, that's what he was. Pretentious. "So you think if we spiv him up, the Warden will loosen up the leash?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand your terminology," Actor smiled. "However, we did behave quite well off grounds at the parachute base, and performed rather well on the mission. Now that we are rid of, er, the bad apple, perhaps Garrison will learn to trust us."

Chief eyed him warily. He still wasn't sure how the others felt about his killing Wheeler in the flaming box car. Did what I had to do, he thought. He turned to look out the window. "At least we get outside a lot. Better than a hour in the yard twice a week."

"Yeah," Casino replied. "Outside doin' obstacle courses. Before you know it, he'll have us doing calisthenics. Or drilling like tin soldiers."

"We can flat-foot our way out of that, we ain't regular soldiers. " Goniff chimed in. " 'Sides, I thought you liked the gun range. And the explosives. We should get more o' that now. " Goniff hated guns, but now he realized he'd have to learn to use them. If he was going to stay on.

"Nice skills for after," Casino nodded. Then he grinned, "That's what the Warden promised me."

"Maybe they won't send us out much," Goniff said hopefully.

"Fat chance," Casino replied. "There's a war on, ya know. The johnny soldiers don't seem to be doin' much to end it. They must be desperate to call on us cons. " He flopped down in a chair. "How long do you think we're in for?"

No one had any idea.

"You stayin'?" Casino looked to Actor. He puffed on his pipe and nodded. "One must take advantage of any opportunity that offers. And there may be opportunities for the taking, both here and in Europe."

"Like heist a Nazi bank ? Or maybe just springtime in Gay Paree?"Casino said sarcastically. He turned to Chief. "What about you, kid?" He'd had his doubts about the young Indian, but he had proved pretty useful. Cool as ice, too.

Chief shrugged. "Better than stir." Better to go down fighting than rot in a cell.

"Yer right," Goniff agreed. He suppressed a shudder. He hadn't adapted to prison at all well. These blokes were tough too, but they just might be on his side. He looked sideways at the safecracker.

Casino spoke slowly. "Yeah, maybe. Better 'n ten at Leavenworth in godforsaken Kansas, that's for sure."

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Garrison didn't miss Wheeler either.

The unit was better off without him, his griping and his blustering. The other cons hadn't seemed to like the man much. He still wasn't sure if they liked each other. Nevertheless, their petty caper of sharing out the counterfeit bills was promising. They weren't quite a band of brothers, but maybe they had started to think they were a group. Except for Wheeler, they had worked like a group when they needed to. It was a start.

He pulled the file folders out of a drawer. He had impulsively committed them to operating for the duration, but he wanted to organize his thoughts before he called into London with a full report.

First he looked at Wheeler's file. He'd have to come up with something better than "Killed in the line of duty " for his condolence letter. Garrison frowned as he looked at the personnel form. No one listed as next of kin. That's why the man hadn't written a farewell letter, as he had suggested to the cons before their first mission. It seemed that no one would miss him.

Chief hadn't written a letter either, but did list a next of kin, with the relationship box empty. Same last name. Mother? Sister? Maybe he didn't trust Garrison not to read the letter, although he had promised these would remain sealed unless needed, and would then only be passed through the censors. Reluctant to reach out to his family? Garrison wondered what had driven him to crime. Beneath the tough façade, he was steady and uncomplaining. He did what he was told do, and he'd done well on the mission. And killed the man who had tried to interfere with the job. He was a keeper.

Casino and Goniff had both written letters to their mothers. Different on the surface, they were much alike. To them, crime was simply a way to make a living. Casino groaned and Goniff moaned, but they were both competent when called on. Their criminal skills had certainly been useful. Maybe the BTO that had proposed this scheme had been on the right track after all.

Actor had proved invaluable on this mission, but he was still a complete mystery to Garrison. Urbane and seemingly imperturbable, even when sweating on the obstacle course, his façade was as tough to crack as the Indian's. The man had certainly seemed to relish his role-playing in their devious con game. His next of kin was a woman, relationship left blank, yet his sealed letter was to another woman. Was the _Dmma_ prefix an Italian title? He'd have to look it up somewhere.

Garrison leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. Originally he had thought he would take one regular recruit in place of any two of these hoods. But they had shaken down pretty well when put to the test. When the going gets tough, he mused, the tough get going. He shook his head. Get serious…..Could he work with these men or not?

He picked up the phone. It would be a challenge, but it might be fun.


End file.
